Where's Alfred?
by EveryoneKnowsMeInWonderland
Summary: Arthur wakes up alone and sets off to find Alfred. Will he find the American? Where does a bet fit in with all of this? Find out in this fluffy little one-shot that will (hopefully) make you smile!


Arthur groaned as the morning light assaulted his closed eyes. He brought a sluggish hand up to cover them, and then turned his head away. He expected to see Alfred laying there, staring at him with those baby blues and smiling softly at him. Instead, he got the sight of crumpled bed sheets and a vacant spot next to him.

"Where's…" Arthur grumbled softly. He sat up and surveyed the room. There was no sign of Alfred anywhere. Arthur frowned and pulled the sheets back, swinging his legs out as he did so. The brit got up and picked up the nearest article of clothing - which, judging from the size of it, was Alfred's shirt. He threw it on ("Why the bloody hell is it so big? I don't even need pants!") and trudged out of the room, expanding his search to the rest of the house.

He checked the Bathroom first, then the Guest room (why he would be in there, he had no idea), and after that the Weight room. Arthur let out a noise of frustration. "That bloody git, he _better _not have left!"

Arthur jogged down the steps and peered into the Living room.

No American.

"Where _is he_?" The blonde whispered angrily. He continued his 'mighty quest to find the Disappearing Giant' until there was only one place left to look: the Kitchen.

Arthur stopped outside the doorway and peered down at the handle. What if he was not in there? What if he was? What if he was, but did not want to see him? What if the Kitchen was on fire, and Alfred was trapped inside and could not get out? These were the thoughts that were swirling around in Arthur's head as he reached for the door handle and pushed down. Arthur held his breath as the door swung open…

…and was greeted by the sight of Alfred sitting at the table in his American flag boxers, drinking a mug of coffee and reading the newspaper.

"Mornin' Artie!" Alfred exclaimed. He smiled at Arthur and Arthur sighed out of relief. Not that he would admit to it of course.

"Bloody Hell," he said, "I thought you had left, or something. I have been looking everywhere for you, you git. How long have you been here, away?" Arthur glared at his lover when said lover threw back his head in laughter.

"Sorry, Artie," he stood up and walked towards his boyfriend, "Did I make you worry?" Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's thin waist. Arthur, in turn, struggled valiantly. He tossed in a few punches here and there, as well, even though he knew it was futile.

"Get off of me, you swine!" he shouted, "Who gave you permission to touch me? No one, that's who! You're going to crush me with your fat self!"

Alfred just laughed and hugged the fussy blonde tighter. "I love you, Artie."

Arthur, being the adorable tsundere he is, stopped struggling and started stuttering, his face so red it would make Lovino green with envy. "B-bug off! Y-you shouldn't say such th-things, git!"

Alfred's blinding smile turned into a loving grin as he repeated, "I love you, Arthur. So much I feel as though I could stop eating McDonalds for the rest of my life if it meant we could be together forever."

Arthur gasped softly, his blush darkening into a blood red color. "Sh-shut up. There's no _way_ you could stick to that! You would be crawling back to that Fat House after one _week,_ you tosser!"

The serious air broken, Alfred gasped dramatically and let go of Arthur's waist in favor of slapping his hands over his heart with a (fake) groan of pain. "You're doubt in me pains me, Artie! I think I'm going to die!"

Arthur scoffed at his soul mate. "Stop being so dramatic. Anyway, you wouldn't be able to do it. I'd bet on it."

Alfred froze and raised a brow at him. "Is that a challenge?" Arthur smirked.

"You bet it is."

Alfred smirked back at Arthur and leant against the table. "When?"

"Tomorrow."

"I can do that that. But on one condition."

Arthur crossed his arms and raised and impressive brow. "And that would be?"

Alfred's smirk widened. "You can't drink tea. Period." Alfred chuckled. "Think you can handle it, sweet cheeks?"

Arthur jeered at him. "Of course I can, wanker. I'm bloody British. We can handle anything," Arthur paused, then added, "And don't call me sweet cheeks."

Alfred shook his head and said, "Yes, your Majesty. Now, what will the winner get?"

"Winner picks punishment of his choosing?"

"Deal. Get ready to wear a French Maid Costume. Can't beat the Hero."

"No, _you _get ready to be publicly humiliated. You can't beat the Gentleman."

_The next morning, they did start the bet. Now, I wish I could tell you who won but, that is for another time, and a different story._

EveryoneKnowsMeInWonderland AN: Hello, everybody! I hope you liked this fail-at-being-fluffy one-shot I wrote in _three days._ It sort of drags at the end, I think, but I am very proud of this fic and myself. For those of you reading Lost Prince of Atlantis, I have started writing the next chapter, but am having some difficulty with ideas. Damn Writer's Block.

Anyway, SCHOOL'S OUT! Yay! Band Camp is starting in a month and I haven't memorized all my music yet. NOT MY FAULT, THOUGH! I can't practice it because I don't have a bell kit. Sad.

So, if anybody's still reading this, please review! I appreciate reviews more than favorites or follows~

Also, if you want me to write a sequel to this (focusing on the week of the Bet), then tell me and I'll start cooking it up.

Thanks for reading! Bye!


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